Life among objects of sense must forever be an outer shape to the sublime soul,—­it can only become powerful life, the life of accomplishment, when it is animated by the crowned and indifferent god that sits in the sanctuary.

The obtaining of this condition is so supremely desirable because from the moment it is entered there is no more trouble, no more anxiety, no more doubt or hesitation.  As a great artist paints his picture fearlessly and never committing any error which causes him regret, so the man who has formed his inner self deals with his life.

But that is when the condition is entered.  That which we who look towards the mountains hunger to know is the mode of entrance and the way to the Gate.  The Gate is that Gate of Gold barred by a heavy bar of iron.  The way to the threshold of it turns a man giddy and sick.  It seems no path, it seems to end perpetually, its way lies along hideous precipices, it loses itself in deep waters.

Once crossed and the way found it appears wonderful that the difficulty should have looked; so great.  For the path where it disappears does but turn abruptly, its line upon the precipice edge is wide enough for the feet, and across the deep waters that look so treacherous there, is always a ford and a ferry.  So it happens in all profound experiences of human nature.  When the first grief tears the heart asunder it seems that the path has ended and a blank darkness taken the place of the sky.  And yet by groping the soul passes on, and that difficult and seemingly hopeless turn in the road is passed.

So with many another form or human torture.  Sometimes throughout a long period or a whole lifetime the path of existence is perpetually checked by what seem like insurmountable obstacles.  Grief, pain, suffering, the loss of all that is beloved or valued, rise up before the terrified soul and check it at every turn.  Who places those obstacles there?  The reason shrinks at the childish dramatic picture which the religionists place before it,—­God permitting the Devil to torment His creatures for their ultimate good!  When will that ultimate good be attained?  The idea involved in this picture supposes an end, a goal.  There is none.  We can any one of us safely assent to that; for as far as human observation, reason, thought, intellect, or instinct can reach towards grasping the mystery of life, all data obtained show that the path is endless and that eternity cannot be blinked and converted by the idling soul into a million years.

In man, taken individually or as a whole, there clearly exists a double constitution.  I am speaking roughly now, being well aware that the various schools of philosophy cut him up and subdivide him according to their several theories.  What I mean is this:  that two great tides of emotion sweep through his nature, two great forces guide his life; the one makes him an animal, and the other makes him a god.  No brute of the earth is so brutal as the man who